


Forever

by Dickbutt



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Antagonist In Mourning, Gender Neutral, Mild Blood, Other, don't fear the reaper, get it over with, soul eating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 05:18:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8736316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dickbutt/pseuds/Dickbutt
Summary: Reaper ties up some loose ends.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at: [Dickbutt Writes Again](http://dickbutt-writes-again.tumblr.com) on Tumblr.

The echo of desperate footsteps scrabbling backwards – fleeing- was easy enough to follow, as was the trail of blood, thicker over distance. A thud sounded, then silence, but for rapid, disordered breathing. Reaper scoffed to himself, then ghosted around the corner into the small, abandoned safe house, toward the body huddling at the far end of the room.

He was impassive behind the mask, watching your rage twisted face where you lay injured, weapon pointed at him with a shaking arm as he approached. It wasn’t any use; he knew you were out of ammo, and from the amount of blood pooled on the ground, it wouldn’t be much longer. He didn’t even bother drawing his weapon, and simply stepped closer to you, heavy footsteps echoing in the empty room. Your eyes narrowed as you subtly pushed yourself closer to the wall you had collapsed against.

“Come to finish the job?” you ground out, and spat out a mouthful of blood at his feet.

He took a long moment to size you up - how disheveled and exhausted you were, how ashen your skin looked from blood loss, the shake to your limbs. But in your eyes burned the same unconquerable fire, even in the face of death itself.

“Won’t have to,” he eventually rasped, stepping even closer. “Someone’s done that for me already.”

_“Fuck you.”_ But the words lost their sharpness at the edge, dulled with resignation. Ah so you _did_ realize.

He stood in silence, listening to your unsteady breaths, and eventually your arm dropped, strength lost, and your weapon clattered to the ground. You looked away from him at last, a hand pressed defensively to your wound.

“Why are you here?”

In a rare moment of benevolence, he opted for honesty.

“Tying up loose ends.”

The confusion that flashed across your face was almost immediately covered back up by your façade of anger, but he caught it. At last at your side, he knelt down to be more on your level, aware of the way that even critically injured, your body instinctively flinched away from him. He watched idly as blood seeped from between your pressing fingers. He shook his head and your name rumbled past his lips; your head shot up at this and he chuckled darkly.

“You always had to go and get yourself in trouble, didn’t you?”

“How…” He watched you swallow a mouthful of blood, then narrow your eyes. “How do you know my name?”

He lifted a hand to his face, clawed gauntlet curling to grasp the edges of his distinctive, fearsome mask.

“A better question is, do you remember mine?”

He pulled the mask away from his face, lowering it slowly, because even the way he was now, he always had a thing for dramatics. Vision unobstructed, he savored your reaction of recognition, then horror, then pained hope. Your hand hesitated in lifting toward him, eyes darting from one point to another on his ruined face.

“Gabriel…” Your voice was weak, disbelieving, his old name leaving your mouth like a sigh. “How…? Why…?”

He took in your features thoroughly, committing them to memory as he caught the hand reaching for his face. Your grip was weak against his; he brought your fingertips to his scarred lips.

“Tying up loose ends,” he repeated.

He watched as tears welled in your wide, frightened eyes and fell hopelessly in fat droplets, your sobs coming out as gasps that shook your whole frame, sapping the last of your strength. He pulled you against him, cradling you as the life slipped from your body.

Your voice was softer than a whisper when you gasped out his name again. His mouth twisted into a rueful half-smile.

“Goodnight, _querido_.”

But you had already gone still, body limp in his hold, which only tightened once you’d passed. Forehead pressed to yours, and a hand on the back of your neck, he _pulled_ , and felt the warmth of your spirit overwhelm him. In that instant, he felt alive again, flooded with memories from another life. Fighting at your side, tending to each other’s injuries on the field, soft kisses passed in secret, waking up in the morning curled around you, warm and safe and whole, feeling like there would be nothing greater in his life than that moment, dreaming of a life spent together. _Quiero estar contigo para siempre._

And then, nothing.

He lowered what remained of you to the ground and rose, replacing the bone white mask. Reaper let himself remain for just a moment longer, breathing deep, until he felt the very last dregs of you fade away.

An exhale, and he melted into the shadows.


End file.
